A Silent Perspective
by Little Box Of Secrets
Summary: Sequel to "A Silent Revenge" Mycroft had been pleased that his little brother didn't get all his camera's he had planted, but know he was playing a new game, with a new opponent. Mycroft's POV of "A Silent Revenge"


**Summary**

**Sequel to "A Silent Revenge"**

**Mycroft had been pleased that his little brother didn't get all his camera's he had planted, but know he was playing a new game, with a new opponent. Mycroft's POV of "A Silent Revenge"**

**A Silent Perspective**

Sitting in his office, Mycroft Holmes watched his laptop with interest. The screen showed a messy flat - though cleaner than it had been - with an ex-army doctor sitting in his chair, watching the events unfold as they happened.

His detective brother had just taken Zachary down a peg or two, and Miss Spencer had just lit a cigarette. The corner of his lip twitched at Zachary's reaction to the little act and the young woman's reply.

Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, Mycroft took out his phone.

_Her name is Rebecca Davis, but most call her Becca. MH_

He sent the text for a few reasons. First of all, it would aggravate Sherlock to know that he had missed one of Mycroft's little "eyes." He was rewarded with a sour expression from Sherlock when he found out a dozen or so seconds later. The second reason was that it would remind Rose Spencer that he could do practically anything and that he was always watching; and not just her and her flatmates. The last reason was that Mycroft, reserved as he may be, did like to stir things up a little every now and again. With the arrival of the young woman in his little brother's life, Mycroft had found himself becoming a little more mischievous. He was yet to decide if it was a good thing or not.

What had surprised him however, was that when challenged, she defended him. He didn't know if she meant it, or if she had done it simply to anger her brother, but she had seemed genuine; and it only confused the older Holmes more.

He caught the mild threat that her older brother made, and it reminded Mycroft of the arguments he had had with Sherlock; the one they had - on Zachary's part at least - was more like a friendly conversation in comparison. He smiled as he remembered the time they had decided to have it out in a home made jousting competition when they were just children. They had used wooden handles from garden equipment with boxing gloves on the end that they had borrowed from their Father. They had been caught by Mother though, and they didn't get the chance to find out who would have won.

He snapped out of his memories just in time to see the young woman march up to her shorter brother, blow an ample amount of smoke in his face and growl out a reply that was too low to be caught by the microphone. He saw the look in her eyes though and it made him smile with the intensity of it.

He had found that she was not like the other women he had been used to conversing with; she wasn't a proper lady to start with. He had called her _dear _countless times since their first meeting, partly out of habit, partly to see what she would do. Now it was just what he called her. She had taken to calling him _Mr. Holmes_, if out of politeness or in retaliation, he - _again_ - didn't know. He wouldn't admit it to anyone though, barely admitting it to himself, but when she called him that, he got ever so slightly annoyed. He didn't show it though, and if he could help it, never would.

Looking at the screen, the woman was stood in front of an empty doorframe, staring into space, lost in her thoughts. She snapped out of her wonderings suddenly, speaking a few words to the doctor, then going down the stairs. Mycroft didn't know if it was to go after her brother, or to go to her room, but judging by the delay he would say the latter.

As he carried on watching, he saw Sherlock's eyes dart about the room. After a few minutes, Mycroft saw his brother approach the little hidden camera.

"Look's like we're both getting a little sloppy, Mycroft." He said, piercing gaze burning through the lens, as though he could see the man at the computer. He flicked the switch on the devise, the screen on the laptop going black, the connection having been broken.

Mycroft frowned, _may have to replace that. _But his thoughts went back to what the siblings had said. _A man for all seasons? _Mycroft was unfamiliar with the phrase. Sighing, he called his assistant into his office.

Seconds later, there was a knock at the door and she walked straight in, giving him her full attention. "Sir?"

"Find out what you can about the phrase; Man for all seasons. I'm a little busy this evening." He said, thinking _a little busy _doesn't cover it.

She frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong sir, but I do believe it is a song."

_A song? _He thought, _it made sense, she did like her music_. "Hmm, get me a copy on disk. I'll be back later to pick it up." He said, getting up and picking up his trusty umbrella from the side. He had a meeting to go to.

"Yes, Sir. Anything else?" She smiled politely.

"Not for now, my dear." He replied, going to the door, his assistant following him out, heading to her own desk while he went towards the lift.

A few hours later, Mycroft went back to his office and found a CD in a clear case on his desk, a yellow post it note on the top.

_The song you requested, Sir._

Smiling slightly, he slipped it into his case, resolved on listening to it when he got home. Sitting at his desk he carried on working for a several more hours, as he did every night.

The next morning, Mycroft woke up at his usual time of five in the morning, deciding that he would have breakfast - reading the news paper - and then go for a shower before getting ready for his day.

Half an hour after he got into his office, his phone buzzed with the familiar sound of a text being received. He frowned slightly, the most likely person to text him was Sherlock; and that was usually because he was up to something again. Opening it though, he got a pleasant surprise.

_Good morning, Mr Holmes._

It was from Rose Spencer. Raising an eyebrow at the devise in his hand, he replied in his own way; calling her dear, with his initials on the end - a habit both he and Sherlock had picked up from their Father.

_Good morning, my dear. And what can I do for you today? MH_

She was obviously contacting him for a reason, but the only thing he could come up with would either be the cameras in the apartment, his little gift, or the text he sent her about her brother. He soon found that he was right; she did want to speak with him, but she didn't say why.

_Thought you would like a chat this morning, Mr Holmes._

She carried on calling him _Mr Holmes_, and so he carried on calling her dear. _It's only fair, _he thought. But he also wanted to let her know that he may not always be available for their little talks.

_Well, I am rather busy today, my dear._

_Though I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere._

_I'll let you know when a car is there for you. MH_

With that, he picked up his gloves, putting them on before his coat and heading out to the car, driver always ready for him. As he sat in the backseat, the car pulling out, he got a reply.

_I appreciate your time, Mr Holmes._

He let a ghost of a smile cross his features, thinking about many things on his way to meet the young woman. Several minutes later, they pulled into Baker Street, and Mycroft sent her a message, announcing their arrival.

A minute or so later the door opened and the sight that got in the car made Mycroft almost react in surprise; something he hadn't done in a long while.

She had her hair down, so long brown locks trailed over her shoulders and down her front and back, sitting gently on top of a long black coat that fit her perfectly. The dark make up brought out her stunning features, making her dark blue eyes seem deeper than ever, shining with secrets and thoughts.

She was wearing the bandana he had gotten her around her bruised throat, hiding the colouring. However, he also noticed what it didn't hide, though he quickly caught himself, surprising himself with his behaviour. Yes, he admired women, very much so in fact. But he had always tried to concentrate on his work, finding that women were mainly a distraction. That didn't stop him when he was younger though.

But then he grew up, he had convinced himself. He got himself a job in the government, working his way to the top, making sure he would stay there, even long after he left.

Rose Spencer had been a distraction for him though, one he very much enjoyed. She had a fire in her that he rarely saw in a woman. She wasn't reserved and was willing to openly threaten him.

He hadn't forgotten that, keeping an eye out for any sort of attempt. He had found a hint of an attempt the previous night, when he had listened to the song his assistant had acquired for him. It had made him chuckle to have such a song associated with him. But the pieces fell in place when she had messaged him this morning; her dress was just the final confirmation he had needed.

"Hello, Mr Holmes." She said to him as she settled in her seat, looking relaxed and calm.

"Good morning, my dear." _Only fair. _"How are you?" She looked surprised at his attempt at small talk, though he was just collecting his thoughts, wondering what she would want to talk about.

"I'm quite well, thank you. And yourself?" She smiled, surprising him once again. Hardly anyone actually seemed like they cared how he was, though she did. He hid it quickly though, knowing she was more observant than most.

"I'm doing well, but I do believe you wanted to discuss something…" He hinted back to her, wanting to get the show on the road.

"Yes, a few things in fact."

"Do continue." He said, not breaking the deep eye contact she had initiated, secretly trying not the get distracted again by the deep, dark blue of her defined eyes. He was no stranger to multitasking after all.

"Well, first, I'd like to say thank you for the little snippet of information about Zachary yesterday." He noted that while the lightness seemed a little forced - only a little - the gratitude was genuine.

"You're welcome, my dear." As he spoke, he saw the change in her eyes and heard the same change in her voice when she spoke, carrying on as though he hadn't spoken. The ice in her tone was almost tangible.

"But I would request that you stay away from my family."

"Ah." He said shortly. They both knew that it was not a request, but a warning, but at the same time, both knew she was not in any position to make such a powerful threat to a more powerful man.

"You understand, I'm sure. My brother may not care for me, and my family may not agree with who I am or what I've done, but I will protect them - with my life if need be." She explained sweetly, eyes burning colder than before. The combination would chill most, but to Mycroft Holmes, it only encouraged him; the ferocity in the woman was one of the things he liked about her. But she had hit a nerve; a brother that doesn't care about her, but she will protect with her life. But he had been used to hiding his thoughts about Sherlock for many years, this was no different.

He kept his voice calm and unperturbed as he replied, "The second thing?" He saw her grind her teeth ever so slightly, but enough to be caught. This was accompanied with a defensive and defiant hint of shoulders back - distracting him a little more - as well as lifting her face a little. He was irritating her.

"Second, I would like to thank you." She lifted a hand, running the material at her neck though her thumb and middle finger. _Knows exactly what she's doing_, he thought, eyes moving with out permission to her chest rather than the fabric in her fingers. He looked away quickly, looking back to her. She didn't show any signs of having caught his un-gentlemanly action though. "I wont ask how you knew, but I will say thank you for it. It's because of you that I accepted your brothers offer." He had seen and was yet to decide his thoughts on the idea of his brother teaching the young woman, taking her on as an assistant. She was young, but certainly not innocent.

He felt the car slowing as the conversation came to a close. He would see her to the door, if only to balance out his uncaught actions. "Well, I'm glad I could help." He smiled.

As the car came to a halt, she threw him a light smirk, daring him to follow her as she left her side of the car. He followed her out of the car, seeing her wait for him. As he came around the car she lifted up her hand for him to shake, and he had the thought that - somehow - she had become a little more distracting in the short time, dangerously so. He took it and she spoke.

"I hope we can one day speak with out the need for threatening each other in one form or another, Mr Holmes." She spoke with a small sadness that certainly didn't match the spark of life in her eyes. That wasn't the only thing that caught his attention though; as she spoke, he felt her thumb stoke his hand though the leather of the glove he wore. He immediately became defensive, hand tightening on hers in a silent warning to quit while she was ahead.

"And now where would the fun be in that, my dear." He called her, name for name, as always, but the small words had caused a change in her eyes; she had made a decision about something.

He soon found out however, when she leaned forward, keeping eye contact at all times. That was until she moved her face past his, her mouth moving to reside next to his ear. To do this, she had had to take a step forward, invading his personal space, making him freeze completely. She still held his hand in her grip, pulling a finger from his frozen hold, running a sharp nail across him palm, sending a shock up his spine.

A low, husky voice whispered in his ear, low and seductive as he had ever heard. "I did ask you to refrain from calling me such names, Mycroft Holmes."

It had taken a moment for him to start thinking again, but when he did, he did what he always did; he retaliated. He knew what her game was, and was more than willing to play just as hard as she was.

So, lifting his other gloved hand, he let it ghost over her arm quickly, making its was to grip the side of her neck. Trying not to hurt her, he barely held her, but let his covered finger tips curl into her skin. He smirked as he caught her hitched breath, feeling her pulse speed up slightly under his palm. He thought he may as well let her stand for a split second, taking the opportunity to take in her scent; a mix of mint and slight tobacco and a third element that was just her, completely indescribable. He smirked.

"Don't play with fire, if you don't want to get burned, _my dear_." He said in reply to her challenge. He stressed the last two words, putting a little more pressure on her neck to punctuate his point; he would do what he liked, including calling her what he wanted to call her.

They stood like that for a long moment, him holding her neck, her holding her breath. But it passed, and they leaned back again, looking the other in the eye once more. Something amused her though, and she broke into her signature smirk, winking at him. He raised an eyebrow at her boldness when he felt the breath catch himself. The message was clear; it wasn't over between them.

She chuckled at him. "Until next time then, Mycroft." She said in what he thought was a bit of a cheeky tone.

He smiled down at her. "Indeed, Miss Spencer."

She turned back to 221B and walked up to the door, opening it and going through without looking back. He just stood there feeling a sense of smug amusement at the young woman. After the door closed, he allowed himself a small chuckle, shaking his head as he turned towards the car again, getting in the back once more.

As the car drove away, he briefly remembered the feeling of her delicate neck in his gloved hand - that still tingled from the rare contact - and he thought that he was wrong about he when he had first read her file.

_She certainly wasn't boring._


End file.
